Hunger Beyond Food

"Diiinner!" The distant yet loud call of one of the girls reached Brad.

He flinched and opened his eyes in confusion. Had he fallen asleep? It seemed so.

He remembered lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The knowledge that the girls saw his weaknesses pressed on him like a too-tight collar. But he couldn't do anything about it, so he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He tried to stick to the rule of "one problem at a time," but today, his problems followed Shakespearean principles— attacking in battalions. If it weren't for that cigarette and the conversation with Dr. Stone, he would have probably snapped.

Brad smiled involuntarily. Such an ordinary, simple conversation in such ordinary, simple circumstances, yet it had brought him so much relief. He hadn't realized how much he needed another person.

Not just for physical pleasure. Just… to be there.

The smile faded into a grimace.

Everyone needed another person. Maybe not necessarily as a romantic partner, but just someone who would listen when needed. Or simply stand beside them.

Sometimes, just that presence was enough.

And apparently, it had been enough for him, considering he had fallen asleep in the middle of the day like some exhausted old man.

As he sat down, he grimaced even more, annoyed at himself for falling asleep while the girls were preparing dinner. Sure, they didn't want him getting in the way—maybe they didn't even want to look at him right now—but still, he could have spent that time more productively. He could have… done what, exactly? Another day of racking his brain over the same problems wouldn't suddenly bring a solution.

"Diiiiinner!" The call, this time drawn out a little longer, once again pierced the silence of the house.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he muttered under his breath and shuffled toward the door. He had barely opened it when the air filled with the pleasant and familiar scent of fresh cucumber, vinegar, and sour cream—without a doubt, cucumber salad—along with the rich aroma of fried pork cutlets. The meal was simple, quick to prepare, and yet, it was always just as satisfying.

Brad dashed down the stairs and hurried to the kitchen. The aroma was incredibly appetizing, strong enough to reach even the annex—something he knew well, having stayed there often. The dinner call, too, was loud enough to be heard from the upstairs room. Still, he knocked on the door with determination. He had promised to fetch Stone when the food was ready, and he intended to keep his word.

"Doctor Stone! Dinner!" His niece called out, much softer than before.

He heard footsteps behind the door, and moments later, he was face-to-face with Colin Stone. Their eyes met, and then—for some reason—the doctor quickly looked away. He was unusually flushed. Hm. Brad had the sudden urge to keep staring. That blush looked damn good on him.

"Yes, I heard. Thank you," Stone replied, his voice trembling slightly, as if those simple words cost him more than Brad could possibly imagine.

Something unnameable twisted in Brad's stomach. He stood frozen as the doctor tried to step past him, their shoulders brushing against each other. The accidental touch sent a shiver down Brad's spine, like an electric shock.

"Sorry," Colin mumbled, blushing even harder, and that's when Brad realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. The air rushed back into his lungs with a jarring collision of reality, his heart pounding far too fast.

What the hell? he thought, watching the doctor walk away, looking just as dazed as he felt.

The answer came immediately—the same one as before. Brad had gone too long without a man, without someone to pull into his arms, to kiss with all his passion, to caress their skin, and then to devour with his hunger…

"I hope you like breaded pork cutlets with creamy cucumber-dill salad and mashed potatoes," Angela's voice pulled him back to reality. "It's nothing fancy, but it's good."

"It smells delicious," Stone admitted, allowing her to lead him to the table.

"It smells good, but it tastes even better," Brad lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the doctor and focus on surveying the room instead. With practiced ease, he strolled toward the table.

"Do you drink beer with dinner?" Olivia asked as Angela, like a restaurant server, placed plates of food in front of them.

"Beer?" Stone looked confused. Cute, Brad thought, taking his seat at the head of the table. Too cute. He barely held back a sigh.

"The girls scolded me for not asking if you drank beer when we were at the bar yesterday, so apparently, they decided to take matters into their own hands," Brad explained with a shrug.

"Ah, I see. I do like beer, but I don't drink alcohol with meals. But I don't mind if others do…"

"I don't drink. I mean, not with dinner and not if I have to drive."

"Are you going somewhere later?" Stone asked, maybe just to keep the conversation going.

"There's a possibility," Brad lifted a glass of apple juice to his lips. It would be nice not to have to go anywhere for a bit of pleasure, he thought, glancing over the rim of his glass at the still-flushed doctor. It would be nice to have someone like that at home, someone who—

He looked away. Get a grip, idiot! Act like a civilized person. The girls are watching you.

"Well then, let's eat before it gets cold."

Brad immediately cut into the breaded pork cutlet, attacking it with his knife and fork. Without a word, he took his first bite and sneaked a glance at the doctor, who was probably seeing this dish for the first time in his life.

"Come on, it won't bite," he smiled at his guest, who was eyeing the food with a hint of uncertainty. "Food is meant to be bitten."

"If you don't like it..." Angela, who was just about to start eating, began to rise from her seat.

"No, no, it's all fine," Stone reassured her quickly, blushing even more. He bravely took the knife and fork in his hands. "I was just admiring the view. This is a cucumber, right?"

"Yes. A cucumber seasoned with vinegar, salt, and sour cream," Brad explained. "It's an old salad from my ancestors' homeland. A kind of Central-Eastern European culinary heritage."

The doctor bravely speared a slice of cucumber dripping with thick sour cream and lifted it to his lips. He savored it for a moment, and suddenly his eyes lit up.

"This is really delicious!"